


Anchor

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Emotional Sex, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Purring Keith (Voltron), Rimming, Season/Series 07, Sexual Content, Top Keith (Voltron), Touch-Starved Shiro (Voltron), Virgin Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 12:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20045701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: “Sorry,” Shiro whispers, quietly, shifting his hips back.Keith tangles his fingers in Shiro’s hair, little pinpricks of sensation tingling down Shiro’s neck.“Don’t be,” Keith murmurs back. His voice is so gravelly, his nose brushing against Shiro’s. “I… I never realized you were so responsive to touch.”Shiro shakes his head, helplessly. “I think it’s new. It’s… Everything feels new.”Shiro just wants to be touched. Keith just wants it to be good for Shiro. They make it work.





	Anchor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valkyriepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyriepilot/gifts).

> Fic request from [Jill](https://twitter.com/EphemeraBlossom), who asked for some good old-fashioned touch-starved Shiro and first time fic. ♥ Thank you so much and I hope you like it!

Keith helps Shiro sit down on the bunk in the Black Lion’s belly. It’s hours after Allura’s successfully untangled Shiro’s consciousness from the Black Lion, hours after he’s woken up in a new body with Keith hovering above him, and Shiro’s still making sense of everything. He should be resting, although he doubts he’ll be able to sleep once he does. 

“Thanks, Keith,” he sighs, shoulders relaxing as he settles. He turns to look at Keith when he sits down beside him and finds Keith already looking at him, his eyes soft. 

And then Keith reaches for him, cupping his face and guiding Shiro down to kiss him. 

Shiro doesn’t mean to gasp, and certainly not so loudly that it rattles out of him, reverberating off the silent walls of the Lion, but he does. It’s a raspy, unused sound, punched out of him not from shock but from the sensation of Keith’s mouth on his. 

Kissing Keith is a revelation. Shiro barely has time to think to kiss Keith back before Keith’s already pulling away. 

“Was that alright?” Keith asks, quietly, his eyes so big and so beautiful. Shiro just wants to get lost in them. 

Keith’s fingertips rest on his cheeks and they hold Shiro steady, safe against a rising tide. “Yeah,” Shiro whispers, throat tight. “Sorry. Yeah, it’s okay. I’m okay.” 

There was a time when Shiro could have kissed a man without feeling like he was about to tremble apart. There was a time when kissing wasn’t enough to make him feel like sobbing. 

But this is Keith. 

“I wanted to do that when you first woke up,” Keith admits. 

Warmth floods through Shiro, but he can only focus on the lake of Keith’s hands cupping him like he’s water. He manages a quiet, “Why didn’t you?” 

Keith smiles, faint and a little shy. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” 

“You could,” Shiro whispers, voice thready and punched-out. He leans forward, lips parting. “You could overwhelm me. If you wanted.” 

It feels inevitable. It feels like it’s always been this. When Allura first returned his soul into his body and he opened his eyes to alien sunshine, to the team all around him, to Keith’s eyes, he knew it was love that buoyed him. He knew that it was inevitable, to love Keith and have Keith love him in return. 

Shiro licks his lips, arrested for a moment at the feeling of it, of being so aware of his tongue, of his breath. His lips are chapped. Keith’s eyes drop down to Shiro’s mouth and that feels like a touch, too.

“Keith,” Shiro whispers. He leans in closer and Keith meets him. 

He knows that, once— what feels like centuries ago now— he was good at this, skilled and accommodating to his partner. He could kiss and be kissed and knew he was good at it. But now he feels fumbly and unsure with Keith, unsure where to put his hand, unsure what to do with his mouth, how to breathe, how tightly to hold his eyes shut. It feels like the first time all over again, but so much more overwhelming. 

“Sorry,” he whispers into the kiss. “I used to be really good at this.” 

“Hmph,” Keith grunts, pulling back from the kiss. Keith’s breath is a warm cloud against his mouth, damp and grounding. Shiro wants to chase that feeling. “I don’t care about how you used to kiss other guys,” Keith mutters, and at least he sounds exasperated rather than upset by the thought. “You’re kissing _me_ now and I say you’re fine.”

Shiro can’t help his laugh at Keith’s straightforwardness. He tips his forehead to Keith’s. 

Keith blinking his eyes open to look at him feels like a touch, too— the way his eyelashes fan out, the way his eyes swirl with such pretty color, looking only at him. 

“Are you jealous?” Shiro asks, curious. 

“No,” Keith answers immediately, expression saying the exact opposite. 

Shiro doesn’t laugh this time, although fondness floods through his chest. He touches Keith’s cheek, mindful not to snag his thumb against the burn mark there, to hurt him. Keith pouts, leaning into the touch as he blinks at Shiro. Shiro’s thumb touches the straight edge of the scar. 

“I love you,” Shiro whispers because that’s always been the truth. It feels almost redundant to say it now. He’ll spend the rest of his life saying it, anyway. 

Keith’s expression changes instantly, his eyes warm as he makes a soft sound in response before he lurches forward, kissing Shiro again. 

“I love you, too,” he answers, lips pressed against Shiro’s, the words like a call and response. 

Keith crawls into Shiro’s lap. Shiro’s breath pushes out of him, swallowed by Keith as he kisses him. Keith’s hands are on his face, his chest against his, his legs bracketing Shiro. He kisses him, desperate and breathless. 

Keith settles fully into Shiro’s lap and Shiro gasps at the contact, loud enough and forceful enough to break the kiss before it can really get started. 

Keith looks apologetic, lifting off Shiro’s lap. “Sorry, I can—” 

“Wait,” Shiro answers, voice cracked with desire. His hand grips Keith’s hip. 

Keith stills, looking at Shiro. There’s a quiet moment where they just look at each other, silent. Keith takes a deep breath, studying Shiro. And then, far more slowly than before, he sits himself in Shiro’s lap. 

“This is okay?” Keith asks once he’s settled. 

Shiro nods and makes a soft sound, seeking Keith’s lips. Keith lets out a relieved laugh and kisses him back, smiling sweetly. He presses a series of pecks against Shiro’s mouth, playful, and then squirms closer. He kisses him deeper, tongue licking at Shiro’s bottom lip to make him gasp, so he can slide in. 

Keith is an inexperienced kisser but an enthusiastic one. Shiro lets out a breathless sound, almost a moan, and rises to meet him. He grips Keith tight by the hip and lets him set that pace. He seems to move on pure instinct, seeking out Shiro and focusing in with that same determined concentration he always has for Shiro. He sucks Shiro’s tongue into his mouth and makes a soft, keening sound. 

“I love you,” Shiro can’t help but say again, because now that he’s said it, he can’t imagine _not_ saying it. Keith makes that same sound, squirming closer. 

This kiss is harder, like he can’t stop himself. Shiro sighs into it, arching, wishing he could do more than just feel so, so overwhelmed by a kiss alone. Keith parts his lips, licking into Shiro’s mouth. His fingers curl at Shiro’s neck, cupping the back of his head and angling him closer. He’s making such soft, pleased noises, like this is everything Keith wants, too, and Shiro’s mesmerized by the sound of it— a hum and a whine, a purr and a gasp at once. 

“Love you,” Keith finally manages to murmur back. Shiro wants to say it and keep saying it. He wants to hear it and keep hearing it. 

After a moment, Shiro realizes Keith’s trembling. He slides his hand from Keith’s hip and up his back instead, feels the blissful slide of his hand on his back. He grips him tight, unable and unwilling to disguise his own desperation. He needs to be closer. He wants to be closer. 

Keith coaxes the kiss deeper with a low groan, sliding his tongue into Shiro’s mouth and breathing hard. Shiro wants to chase his breath, chase the feeling of their lips pressed together, the sweet slide of Keith’s tongue. He wants to fall apart in Keith’s arms. 

It’s almost too much, but then Keith breathes out Shiro’s name and Shiro’s chest swells. He drags his hand up Keith’s back and into his hair, tangling his fingers up at the nape of his neck, cradling his head. He sucks on Keith’s tongue just to see how he’ll react, and he’s rewarded with Keith’s surprised moan. 

He feels each sound Keith makes vibrating where they’re chest to chest. Shiro swallows each sound, shuddering at the brush of Keith’s teeth over his bottom lip, the ghost of fangs. 

Pressed up like this, Shiro feels the rumble of Keith’s chest. It lances through him, growing and twisting. He’s never felt the sound before, much less in a body so hypersensitive that even kissing makes him want to cry: Keith’s purring. 

The sound pulses through Shiro and he can’t help the gasping moan it draws from him— he’s never gotten so hard in his life before, so sudden he nearly feels dizzy. He can’t remember the last time just making out could get him hard, but it’s all so much— it’s Keith, it’s Keith’s touch, it’s Keith sounds. 

Keith licks his top lip and squirms. With a small shift of his hips slotting into place, Shiro knows Keith’s felt that Shiro’s hard. He sucks in a sharp breath. 

Shiro breaks the kiss with an embarrassed noise. The purring in Keith’s chest stops abruptly. 

“Sorry,” Shiro whispers, quietly, shifting his hips back. 

Keith tangles his fingers in Shiro’s hair, little pinpricks of sensation tingling down Shiro’s neck. 

“Don’t be,” Keith murmurs back. His voice is so gravelly, his nose brushing against Shiro’s. “I… I never realized you were so responsive to touch.” 

Shiro shakes his head, helplessly. “I think it’s new. It’s… Everything feels new.” 

He shivers when Keith pulls one hand through his hair and slides it down, tracing his fingers over the shell of his ear and skirting his jaw. Keith cups his face, like it’s simple, thumb fanning over his cheekbone. 

“This is new for me, too,” Keith admits, quiet. His eyes flicker up, meeting Shiro’s. 

Shiro smiles. He knew that much. He presses his forehead to Keith’s. “You’re perfect.” 

“Ha,” Keith breathes, half laughter, half self-consciousness. He shifts up out of Shiro’s lap and Shiro regrets the absence almost immediately, feels every spot where Keith once was like a phantom pain. 

But Keith curls one arm around Shiro’s shoulders instead, the other cupping the back of his head, and guides him down onto the bunk, holding him like he’s precious. He makes Shiro lie down and Shiro blinks up at him, affection and longing flooding through him. 

Keith lingers, pulling his hands back just so his fingertips can brush through Shiro’s hair, pushing it away from his forehead. Helplessly, Shiro’s hand finds Keith’s hip and tugs, once, mesmerized by the feeling of his palm cupping his hip bone, the harder edge of it, firmer than the curve of Keith’s waist, the slide of his hair. 

He wants to touch Keith all over and catalogue how everything feels. He never wants Keith to stop touching him.

Keith gets the hint because Shiro only needs to tug once and then Keith’s lying down beside him, partly tucked into Shiro’s side and partly on top of him. 

“Too much?” Keith asks but smiles when Shiro shakes his head, curling around him. 

Keith keeps playing with Shiro’s hair and every miniscule tug of Keith’s fingers centers Shiro, his heart kicking up in his chest. He swears he can practically feel the way his hair slides against Keith’s gloves. 

“We can go as slow as you need,” Keith tells him. 

Shiro huffs a breath. “I said you could overwhelm me.” 

Keith’s hand stills and then shifts, skating his fingertips over Shiro’s face. He drags it down the slope of his nose and thumbs his cupid’s bow. Shiro’s breath goes a little short when Keith touches his mouth and then ghosts down to his chin, just tracing over his skin. 

“I’m not…” Keith trails off, turning pink, fingertips curling just beneath Shiro’s chin.

Shiro waits, but when Keith doesn’t elaborate, Shiro says, “If you want to go slow…” 

Keith looks down and sucks in a sharp breath. “I’ve never really done this before, Shiro. I don’t know— I want it to be good for you, you know?”

“I know,” Shiro answers, without hesitation. He reaches for Keith. 

He cups Keith’s cheek just to feel the soft curve of it. Keith’s cheek squishes up against his palm when he looks up at him, lips curving into a tentative, shy smile. 

“It’s okay,” Shiro tells him, voice soft. “It’s you. Everything will be good.” 

Keith snorts a quiet laugh, eyes sparkling in the dark light of the Black Lion’s cargo hold. He cups his hand over Shiro’s, keeping it there against his cheek. 

“That’s really sweet, Shiro,” Keith murmurs, which Shiro thinks really means, _That’s so cheesy._

“I mean it,” Shiro insists. 

Keith shakes his head, fondly, and then swings his leg over Shiro’s hips, curling loosely and dragging him in closer. 

“I mean it,” Shiro says again, breathless. He feels helplessly weightless, like he’s about to drift away, anchored only by the drag of Keith’s body against his. “I don’t… I feel—” 

“What?” Keith whispers, eyes dark. 

“I… I think it helps,” Shiro murmurs. “You touching me. I— my body—” 

He can’t explain it, but Keith seems to understand the important part: he touches Shiro’s body, hands dragging. 

“Like this?” Keith asks.

“Yeah.” 

Keith leans in closer, nosing at his jaw and down his neck, his mouth brushing against his throat. Shiro trembles. 

“Like this?” Keith asks again, softer this time. 

“Yes, Keith,” Shiro breathes, eyes closing and just _feeling_. Keith’s hair is silky-thick against the underside of his chin. He feels the soft whisper of Keith’s breath through his nose, the soft tip of it pressing against his throat, his lips smiling against his skin. 

“After so long in Black,” Shiro whispers, breathless, “I think it helps if— if I just—” 

“I’ll make you feel,” Keith vows, lips brushing over his neck, words spoken with such weight that Shiro almost wants to laugh, almost wants to cry. 

Keith grunts when he hits the top of Shiro’s undersuit. He takes a mouthful of the material, he noses against the column of his neck. 

“Keith?” Shiro whispers and Keith grunts again. 

“Want you out of this,” Keith mutters, like he half-expects Shiro to say no. 

But Shiro’s body is overflowing, a cup held up to Keith’s lips— and he sucks in a sharp breath. He nods his head before he even questions it. 

“Please,” he whispers. He’s like water— flowing wherever Keith commands him.

Keith doesn’t answer, but a purr rumbles up his chest, low and throaty. Shiro swallows thickly as Keith’s hands press against Shiro’s chest. 

When he pulls Shiro’s suit down, it feels like sandpaper on his skin, dragging over his body, leaving him raw. But the cool air in the Black Lion’s belly feels like a balm as he’s exposed. 

Keith pulls his gloves off with his teeth and reaches for Shiro. If Keith’s hands on him felt good when he was wearing his suit and gloves, it feels different entirely when it’s Keith’s bare hands on Shiro’s bare chest. Shiro sucks in a sharp breath, feeling like he’s about to burst apart. 

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs. 

He drags his hands over Shiro’s chest, just touching him. His fingers trace over his collarbones, the dip of his chest, the slope of his stomach. He follows scarred pathways, muscled lines. He touches and touches and Shiro’s never felt so hard from something so sweet. 

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Keith says and Shiro can only nod. 

Keith touches every inch of Shiro’s skin. It’s so much, too much, and somehow not enough. Shiro wants to touch Keith in turn. His hand feels sluggish and ridiculous, not nearly enough. His body’s trembling beneath Keith and all he can focus on is how perfect he feels. 

“In the astral plane… I never felt anything there,” Shiro admits in a quiet voice. 

Keith makes a soft sound, nodding, and leans down. His hands are hard against Shiro’s chest, holding up Keith’s weight as he kisses Shiro. Shiro sucks breathes in and tips up, seeking Keith’s mouth. 

It’s blissful, the way Keith feels pressed to him. He wants to get lost like this, just focusing on the feel of Keith’s mouth, his breath. He wants to feel Keith’s smile against his skin, wants to feel his hair against his fingers. 

Shiro fumbles, dragging his hand up Keith’s back, seeking the pull for his undersuit. Keith arches, breaking the kiss with a soft breath that trails into a purr. 

After some fumbling at the nape of his neck, Keith gets the hint and helps Shiro— reaching behind him and tugging until the suit peels away from him, exposing his skin. He pulls up from Shiro enough to shimmy it down over his body, letting it pool at his hips. 

All Shiro wants to do is stare at him. He reaches out blindly, cupping his hand to Keith’s belly. It makes Keith laugh, though, squirming away. He blushes, ducking his head so his hair falls in his face. Shiro thinks he’s never looked more beautiful. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, eyes dragging over his body. 

Keith wriggles, embarrassed, but unable to hide his small smile. He lifts off Shiro enough to strip his suit off the rest of the way, leaving them both naked. He climbs back onto the bunk once he kicks the suit away to join Shiro’s. 

It’s Keith this time who goes quiet, just tracing his eyes over Shiro. The gaze crests over Shiro’s skin, as present and firm as a touch of Keith’s hands. Shiro holds his breath, feeling himself blush as Keith studies him. 

Tentatively, Keith reaches out, pressing one hand to his thigh, the other to his waist. 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers and says nothing more. 

Shiro waits and then lets out a breath and asks, “Yeah?” 

“Is this helping?” Keith asks, something shy in his tone as he glances up at him. 

Shiro wants to laugh. He reaches for Keith, cupping his cheek. “Keith,” he whispers. “I want to be with you.”

It’s not quite an answer, but it’s the right thing to say. Tension eases out of Keith’s shoulders and he ducks down, kissing Shiro sweetly. 

He brushes his nose against his when he pulls back and says, “I’m sorry if I’m not any good at this.” 

“I wish I could make it as good for you as you deserve,” Shiro says in turn. 

Keith scoffs, shaking his head. “Shiro.” 

He doesn’t have to say anything more— Shiro hears the reprimand in his voice and can’t help the little smile. He lifts his hand, brushing the hair away from Keith’s face just to touch it, just to scratch his blunt nails against Keith’s scalp and feel the way his hair flicks over his knuckles, the way a purr rumbles up his chest. 

Shiro marvels at the sound of it, just listens to it. He tugs on Keith’s hair to prompt him closer and Keith presses down against him, chest to chest. Shiro feels the purr reverberate through his entire body. 

Helplessly, Shiro seeks him out, kissing him. He sweeps his tongue into Keith’s mouth just to hear him keen. Keith’s mouth tilts into a smile as he kisses him. 

Shiro’s definitely hard now and, lying against each other like this, he can’t help but push his hips up. Keith’s half-hard and his breath catches when Shiro’s cock slides against his. Keith breaks the kiss and blinks his eyes open— deep purple and pupils starting to slit up like a cat’s. Shiro marvels at that, too. 

And then he drops his hand down to touch Keith, curling his fingertips tentatively around the base of Keith’s cock. He squeezes once when Keith whines and then strokes up. Keith whimpers, pressing his face into Shiro’s neck. 

It’s sensory overload. He feels Keith pant against his neck and feels the silky slide of Keith’s cock. It’s perfect in his hand. He follows the sweet curve of Keith in his hand, following the twitch of his hips. 

Shiro noses into Keith’s hair, inhaling. He feels Keith moving against him. The angle’s awkward and his hand is fumbly— Shiro might be functionally ambidextrous but his dominant hand was always his right— and the pace is all wrong, but Keith doesn’t seem to mind. Shiro wants to memorize all of it— how sweetly Keith comes apart under just the stroke of his hand, how he goes liquid against his body. 

He’d be content to keep doing that but after a moment, Keith paws at Shiro’s hand, shoving it away. Shiro lets go immediately and sighs when Keith tangles their fingers together instead. Keith turns his face away from Shiro’s neck to whisper an apologetic kiss against his knuckles. As if he has anything to apologize for. 

“Okay?” Shiro asks. 

“Don’t want to come yet,” Keith mutters and turns their hands so he can mouth a gentle kiss to Shiro’s wrist. 

“You’ve really… never done this before?” Shiro can’t help but ask. 

Keith doesn’t look embarrassed, at least, when he shrugs. “I was so hung up on you,” he admits, quietly. “How could I focus on anyone else? Why would I want anyone else?” 

Shiro knows his hand’s trembling when he pulls back from Keith’s hold and slides up Keith’s back, pulling him in closer. He’s arrested by the exquisite curve of Keith’s back, every little bump of his spine. He could map out Keith’s body by touch alone, memorize every curve, every dip, every hard edge and soft skin.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” Shiro says. 

Keith smiles as if Shiro’s said something funny. He shakes his head, his eyes softening. 

When he kisses Shiro, it’s just a tender slide of his mouth against Shiro’s. Quiet, sweet. He licks Shiro’s mouth once and then tilts his head, slotting his lips to his in a gentle press. He pulls back just as quickly, just as Shiro’s managing to recover from the blissful feeling of Keith’s breath against his mouth, the hush of his teeth just barely brushing his bottom lip. He chases Keith’s mouth, which only makes Keith laugh, soft and delighted. 

“Your eyes,” Shiro whispers. 

Keith blinks a few times. “What about them?” 

Shiro wonders if it’ll upset Keith to hear it, but Shiro can’t stop staring at the slit of his pupils. “They’re... uh, Galra-y?” 

Keith blinks again. He frowns thoughtfully. “They— It happens when I get excited.” He hesitates and then asks, “Does it bother you?” 

“No,” Shiro says, tracing his thumb over Keith’s lip. “I love everything about you.” 

Keith clenches his eyes shut for a moment, as if the words have hit him physically, and a moment later his mouth tilts up into a pleased smile. 

“Me too. About you, I mean,” Keith answers. “You’re so handsome, Shiro.” He opens his eyes, smiling wider now, mouth hinting fangs. “I want to do everything with you.” 

Shiro nods, tracing his fingertips down Keith’s neck. “We can do whatever you want.” 

“Are you sure?” Keith asks. “You’re trembling.” 

“It’s a lot,” Shiro agrees. “But… I want to feel you, Keith. I want— I want you.” 

Keith’s breath rushes out of him and he ducks down, kissing Shiro again. He pulls back just as quickly, eyes smoldering when he says, “Tell me if I’m bad and I’ll stop.” 

And Shiro watches, dazed, as Keith kisses down his neck and down his chest, his pathway clear. Shiro trembles, feels each print of Keith’s mouth, the ghost of his tongue against his skin. Keith presses a sweet kiss against Shiro’s belly button and Shiro’s breath is a heaving, heavy iron in his throat. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, unable to say anything else. 

“Still okay?” Keith asks, glancing up at Shiro, hair in his eyes. His eyes burn so bright.

Keith waits until Shiro manages a fumbling nod. Then he smiles and drags down over the last plane of Shiro’s skin and takes his cock in hand. He hesitates only for a moment before he tentatively kisses the head. 

Shiro’s gasp is so loud that it almost sounds theatrical. He shudders, hips twitching up. If touching Keith’s cock felt like bliss, this is torture. Keith pulls back, studying Shiro’s face. It’s sinful, the way his eyes peek up at him through his bangs, the way his cheeks flush, the way his mouth— kiss-swollen and beautiful— curves into a shy smile before he leans in again, giving a cautious, kittenish lick. 

Keith’s tongue is almost scratchy like a cat’s. Shiro only realizes it now that it’s dragging over such a sensitive part of him. He bites his lip, shuddering and reaching blindly to twist his fingers into Keith’s hair. 

Emboldened by Shiro’s response, Keith leans forward again and drags his tongue from tip to base. He’s almost methodical about it, exploring Shiro’s body like this, assessing every reaction Shiro gives him. Keith’s always been such a fast learner, always been such a quick study— he notes what makes Shiro gasp the loudest and hones in on it. He curves his mouth around the tip of Shiro’s cock and licks at the underside, his mouth soft and warm against his skin. 

“Keith,” Shiro gasps, trembling. 

Keith smiles and it’s obscene to see it, his cock in Keith’s mouth and his lips quirked up in a pleased smile. He sinks in a little closer, swallowing Shiro’s cock into his mouth. 

He tentatively bobs his head. Shiro keeps expecting Keith to choke, but he never does— he works himself eagerly down the length of Shiro’s cock, pressing closer and pulling back with a huff of his breath that rushes over the length of him, slicked with Keith’s mouth and precome. 

Shiro knows he’s shaking. He’s given up on trying to control it, his grip so tight in Keith’s hair. He swallows thickly, gasping, not daring to yank Keith down and risk hurting him.

Keith’s tongue is torturous, dragging and swirling along the length of Shiro’s cock, coaxing him in closer. It takes all of Shiro’s strength not to start thrusting. 

Keith draws back off Shiro’s cock with a groan, breathing heavily as he strokes him. He ducks, kissing down his cock, his breath hot and panting against the thick length of him. 

It’s so much sensation at once. Shiro feels pinpricks of tears at the back of his eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling of it, by the fact that it’s _Keith_ here with him, touching him. He forces it back, focusing on holding tight to Keith’s hair, to the drag of Keith’s mouth. 

And just as quickly, Keith draws away with a ragged breath. 

“Shiro,” Keith gasps, and his voice is so raw, so throaty, lips swollen. “I want… I—” 

“Tell me,” Shiro coaxes when Keith fumbles. 

Keith blushes, eyes lowering as he looks him over. His hand ghosts over Shiro’s cock and drops lower against him. Shiro feels his lungs swell with air, feels his chest rise with his breath, feels the pounding of his heart. 

Keith’s watching him so carefully and says, quietly, “I want to fuck you.” 

“Yeah,” Shiro answers, the word punching out of him. “We’ll… We’ll need—” 

“Yeah,” Keith agrees, cutting him off. He hesitates, clearly loathed to leave Shiro. He touches him, hands pressing against his belly. After some contemplation, he takes a breath and sits up, scooting towards the edge of the bunk. “Wait here. I’ll be quick.” 

Shiro doesn’t realize how securing Keith’s touch really has been until, suddenly, he’s not touching him at all. He lies there on the bunk, watching Keith speed walk away. It’d be hilarious under normal circumstances to see Keith, naked and frenzied, tearing the lion apart in search of something to use as lube, but as it is, all Shiro can think about is how much he misses having Keith near. 

They’ve spent so long— too long— being too far away from each other. 

Shiro holds his breath. When Keith finally returns to him, he takes one look at Shiro’s face and makes a soft sound, moving to his side instantly. He presses the long, sinuous curve of his body against Shiro’s and cups his chin, guiding him into a kiss. 

It’s only then that Shiro can relax, seeking him out. He slides his hand against Keith’s back and drags him in closer. 

Keith kisses him and Shiro thinks he can taste himself on Keith’s tongue. He whimpers when Keith sucks on his bottom lip, tongue sliding like he did over his cock. 

“Do you need me to— I, um,” Shiro murmurs when Keith pulls back, popping the cap on the bottle he returned with, slicking his fingers up with an obscene twist of his wrist. “If you need me to show you—” 

Keith gives him an amused look, cheeks pink. “No.” 

“But, you said—” 

Keith laughs, sliding down the length of Shiro’s body, parting Shiro’s legs with a gentle brush of his hand and settling between them. “This I know how to do, Shiro.” 

The implication lurches in Shiro’s gut. He imagines Keith, alone in his room, slicking his fingers up and working himself open. Shiro can’t bite back a moan and he his cock twitches against his belly. Keith sees it, eyes widening and then, sheepishly, grinning up at him. He looks pleased with himself, a purr rumbling up his chest as he presses his fingers between Shiro’s legs and strokes over his hole. 

Shiro sucks in a sharp breath, hips lifting. But Keith just strokes, experimentally, or perhaps teasing. He looks pleased still, eyes half-lidded. He looks more and more like a cat as they go, his eyes assessing as he takes in Shiro’s body, every reaction he gives. 

Keith’s quiet, contemplating. He glances at Shiro and then says, “Remember… tell me if you don’t like something.” 

“I love everything you do, Keith,” Shiro says. 

Keith laughs, both embarrassed and endeared. He leans in, kissing first Shiro’s hip and then the inside of his thigh. He squirms down and settles, lying out between Shiro’s legs, watching his fingers stroke over Shiro’s hole without penetrating. He’s taking his time. He’s making sure Shiro’s not about to shake apart. 

Shiro’s thoughts short-circuit, though, when Keith leans in and swipes his tongue over his hole next. Shiro lurches, hips jerking up. 

“Fuck!” he gasps before he can stop it. 

“Too much?” Keith asks quickly, looking up at him. 

Shiro shakes his head, gasping for breath. “No— no.” 

Keith studies his face for a moment and then with a deep breath leans back in again, licking at Shiro’s hole. This time, Shiro’s gasp is quieter. He manages to hold still, luxuriating in the feeling of Keith’s mouth against his. His tongue swirls against his rim, and Keith seems to forget about his fingers. His hands grip Shiro’s thighs, lifting him up just a little to give himself better access. 

He goes to work, laving his tongue against the soft curve of Shiro’s body. He kisses his hole and then licks closer, tongue teasing but never pressing in. Shiro’s torn between gripping Keith’s hair tight or shoving his hand against his mouth to muffle the sounds he’s making.

When Keith gives a low, pleased moan against Shiro’s skin, Shiro can’t help his responding gasp. He groans Keith’s name, lifting his hips up. Keith, in turn, is relentless— kissing and licking at him. 

“Keith,” Shiro moans, “_Keith._” 

Fueled on by Shiro’s sounds, Keith keeps going, squeezing Shiro’s thighs and then dropping his hands down, cupping Shiro’s ass and lifting him up, spreading his cheeks as he mouths at him. Finally, his tongue slides closer against his rim and breaching just enough to rip a sob from Shiro’s throat. 

When Keith’s fingers swipe over his rim in turn, accompanying his tongue, Shiro bucks his hips up, seeking some sort of friction, unable to put voice to what Keith does to him. He grabs tight at Keith’s hair, pulling him, and Keith goes with a delighted moan, tongue and fingers squirming inside him, pulling him open. 

Shiro gives a gasping shout when he feels Keith start to purr, each swipe of his tongue punctuating the deep vibrations that press against Shiro’s feverish skin. 

And just as easily, Keith draws his mouth away, pressing a sloppy kiss to the inside of Shiro’s thigh. He pushes two fingers inside of Shiro, working him open as he mouths at Shiro’s skin. He shifts up, licking at the underside of Shiro’s cock. 

The purring only grows as he works his lips up over the length of Shiro’s cock and takes him into his mouth again, tongue curling and chest rumbling. Shiro feels it reverberating through his whole body. His gasp is a wet, soundless thing, his body arching as he rocks into Keith’s mouth. 

Keith grunts, pleased, mouthing at Shiro’s cock as he presses his fingers inside of him. It’s too much at once, too many points of contact. There’s the silky heat of Keith’s mouth, the rumble of his purr, the slide of his tongue. There’s the blissful, slick slide of Keith’s fingers inside his body, pulling him open. 

He realizes he’s crying only a second before Keith does. The purring stops abruptly when he spots Shiro wiping at his face as quickly as he can. 

Shiro gives a mournful cry when Keith’s fingers slide out from inside him. Keith crawls up towards him. 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers, pained, “Shiro—” 

“I’m okay,” Shiro answers quickly, vision swimming with unshed tears. “Sorry,” he whispers when Keith cups his face, leans in to press his forehead to Shiro’s. “I just—” He swallows down, summoning words that steal away his breath. “It’s a lot.” 

“Too much?”

“No,” Shiro says, cupping the back of Keith’s head to keep him there. “Perfect. Amazing. You’re amazing, Keith.” 

Keith doesn’t look convinced. His mouth’s quirked down in a near-grimace, his hands so soft against Shiro’s body. He moves, kissing away the tears on his cheeks. 

“I’m alive,” Shiro whispers, his body a flowing river, his body singing, his body yearning only for Keith. “I love you… I’m alive.”

Every touch he’s feeling now is proof of that. He’s alive. 

Keith keens and lurches forward, kissing him. It’s far sloppier than before— desperate, needy. He grips Shiro tight and lays worship to his mouth. Shiro gasps and rises to meet him, breathing out Keith’s name as he kisses him back. 

“I love you,” Keith repeats once he breaks the kiss. “You. I love you.” 

He thumbs Shiro’s cheek, wiping away the last of the tears. Shiro quirks a helpless smile. “Told you that you could overwhelm me.” 

Keith huffs a breath. He doesn’t quite smile but something softens in his eyes. He sucks in a sharp breath, though, when Shiro tentatively reaches out and palms at his cock. Shiro pulls gently, pressing the cock down against his belly, trapping it between his stomach and hand. Keith rocks forward a couple times. 

“_Shiro,_” Keith keens. 

Shiro loves the feeling of Keith’s cock in his hand, the tension lancing his body. His cock is hard against his fingers, silky skin sliding against Shiro’s palm, the head slick with precome. 

Keith’s breathing heavy, rocking into Shiro’s touch, his chest heaving with a moan. He ducks his head, just focusing on feeling Shiro. Shiro would be content to keep doing that, but he knows they both need more than that. Keith seems to agree— he kisses the corner of Shiro’s mouth and pulls back. 

“Do you want to keep going?” Shiro asks him.

Keith sweeps his hands over him and Shiro trembles. Keith nods and squirms back down, pressing a kiss to his stomach. Shiro closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of Keith’s mouth as it trails down his body.

Shiro thinks he starts floating, that his mind goes fuzzy. All that exists is the exquisite slide of Keith’s tongue against his hole, tongue and fingers spreading inside him. There’s only the heavy feeling of the air in his lungs, the ache of his fingers as he grips Keith’s hair so tightly. There’s the drag of Keith’s fingers, the ghost of his breath against Shiro’s balls. His hand gripping Shiro’s thigh. His warm mouth against his skin.

Shiro can’t stop his legs from trembling and he’s grateful that Keith hasn’t stopped. His hand paws at Shiro’s thigh, petting him, and it’s soothing and overwhelming at once. 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers against him, and it’s a blissful sound. Keith says his name a few more times before Shiro comes back to himself enough to focus— body trembling, hole wet and sopping, his cock hard against his stomach. 

He croaks out a quiet, “Yes?” 

Keith shifts. Softly, voice raw and fucked-out, Keith admits, “Want to fuck you.” 

“Yeah, Keith,” Shiro moans, eyes closing. “Please.” 

Keith presses one last kiss to his rim before sitting up on his knees, cock hard against his belly. 

“How do you want me?” Shiro asks.

Keith seems overwhelmed by the question, lips swollen and pink, eyes wide, face flushed. His hair’s a mess and he’s never looked more beautiful. 

“A— any way,” Keith whispers, eyes wide. “I don’t know. Any way you want, Shiro. You’re— fuck.”

Shiro can’t help his laugh, breathless and self-conscious, but _happy._ He pets Keith’s chest just to feel the rise and fall of his breath, the pounding of his heart. 

“I want to see your face,” Shiro murmurs. “… I want to look at you always.” 

Keith’s eyes go glassy for just a moment and then he surges down, grabbing Shiro’s shoulders and moving so he’s flushed against Shiro’s body. He kisses Shiro, desperate and hungry. Shiro groans, holding Keith just as tight. 

When they break the kiss, it’s just to look at each other for a long moment. Keith’s hair falls in his face and Shiro brushes it away gently, tracing his thumb down over his jaw line. 

“You’re so pretty,” Shiro whispers just to see Keith blush. 

“How do you feel, Shiro?” Keith asks, eyes bright and cheeks pink. 

Shiro nods, unsure how to put the sensations to words. He knows what it felt like to be on the astral plane, to be without body. But he knows, too, what it feels like to be beneath Keith, grounded. He feels like he was always meant to be Keith’s. 

“So good.” 

He brushes his fingers through Keith’s hair, petting him. Keith gives a low purr, eyes closing and leaning into the touch, nuzzling at Shiro’s palm. 

“What about you?” Shiro asks. 

“I’m…” He sounds choked up. “I’m so happy you’re here with me.” 

“Keith…”

“Sorry,” Keith offers, weakly. 

Shiro shakes his head, leaning in quickly to kiss him again and again, just a series of light pecks that leave Shiro’s spine tingling. 

“I’m here,” he whispers. 

“Shiro.”

“I’m here,” he says again, nuzzling at Keith’s jaw. 

Pressed to him full-bodied like this, it’s easy for him to shift his hips, to hook his leg and roll them over so it’s Keith sprawled on the bed. Shiro moves to straddle him more fully and reaches back, pulling Keith’s cock in a few short tugs and guiding it against his hole, slick and wet and waiting for him. 

“I’m here,” he tells Keith again when Keith starts panting, chest heaving. He strokes his cock gently. “I’m here. You saved me. You found me.” 

Keith’s voice is wet at the edges, eyes wide. “Shiro—” 

“I’m here, Keith.” 

Keith chokes off with a small whimper as Shiro tentatively rocks his hips back, just enough for Keith’s cockhead to push past his rim. It’s been a long time since Shiro’s felt this stretch. It feels good. And it’s easy to focus on Keith’s reaction— the way he stares into Shiro’s eyes like he can never look away, lips parted, grip tight. 

“Okay, baby?” Shiro whispers. 

Keith flushes. He nods, hips rolling up. “_Shiro._” 

All Shiro can do in response is kiss him. He has to move slow. It’s been a long time for him and, beyond that, the swell of Keith’s cock inside his body is _too much_, blissfully so.

“You feel so good,” Shiro whispers. 

Keith can’t respond, his mouth open but no sound escaping, his body taut beneath him. He clings to Shiro as his cock eases in. Shiro feels the rumble of Keith’s purr, the way it builds in his chest before it erupts outward. Pressed to Keith like this, he feels the purring down his whole body. 

“Baby,” Shiro whispers, encouraging, just to hear the purr grow louder. 

And it does. Keith is the one trembling now, gripping Shiro so tight, nails pricking enough to almost be claws. The touch is good and Shiro shudders, groaning. The slide of Keith’s cock is centering and Shiro sinks down against him, focusing on that drag, that stretch, that feeling. 

Keith’s fingers curl tight around Shiro’s hips and drag him down, rocking up to meet him. Shiro gasps, punched-out, back arching. He bows above Keith, head tipping back. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, shuddering. And then he drops his hips down to let Keith slide the rest of the way, until he’s fully seated inside him, until he can feel every inch of Keith’s cock disappeared inside his body. 

He fucks down against Keith and together they move. It’s a slow-build, sweet at first, just the width of Keith’s cock inside him, that pleasant slide of their bodies together. Shiro feels the sweat clinging to his skin and he used to hate that feeling. Now, it’s proof he’s alive, proof he’s here with Keith. He sucks in a sharp breath and rolls his hips tentatively.

Keith arches, crying out, his claws biting into Shiro’s hips. He’s the most beautiful man Shiro’s ever known. 

They move together like that. Keith rocks up and Shiro rolls his hips down to meet him. He lifts enough that Keith nearly slips out of him. It’s an easy thrust down, to feel the full slide of Keith’s cock enter his body again. 

Shiro’s felt himself on the edge for long enough now that this threatens to send him coming. He bites his lip back against a pathetic whimper, overwhelmed by the thought of it— he’s alive still to feel this. He’s here with Keith. 

Keith grips him tight, his breath frenzied and his thrusts haphazard. His pupils are slit like a cat’s, wide and staring straight up at Shiro, as if memorizing his movements. When he bites his lip, Shiro spots the sharp curve of a fang. 

“Baby,” Shiro murmurs, picking up the pace. “You feel so good. You’re so good. Keith—” 

He feels it all. He’s never felt so much at once and he knows he’s starting to tear up again, overstimulated and desiring it. He feels Keith’s cock inside him, the stretch of his body to accommodate him. He feels the way his thighs bracket Keith’s body. Keith’s hands are on his hips, pricking nails kissing his skin. 

He’s _alive._ And it’s because of Keith. 

Shiro lurches down, changing the angle. They both groan but Shiro swallows Keith’s with a sloppy kiss. Keith’s purring stutters and then renews, louder.

“Fuck me,” Shiro whispers against his mouth. “Touch me.”

He wants Keith to touch him everywhere. He wants Keith to make him cry. 

Keith mewls into the kiss and drags his hands up over him, fucking harder into him. It’s nearly too much. Shiro’s making sounds he’s never heard himself make before, each one punched out of him with a thrust of Keith’s cock inside him. 

When Keith fists Shiro’s cock, that’s too much. He comes with a sharp cry, arching as he orgasms. Ropes of his come string out over Keith’s stomach, slicking up his hand as he milks Shiro. Shiro shudders through it. 

It broaches onto painful, the feeling of every point of contact. He shivers, gasping, gulping down air, the smell of sex around them. He moans Keith’s name. He bites at Keith’s mouth before Keith can say anything. Keith purrs in response, stroking him off until he’s finished coming. 

“Shiro,” Keith finally manages, deep and rumbly. That alone could make Shiro come again. 

He nuzzles at Keith’s jaw and turns to kiss him, whimpering, trembling against Keith’s hands. He lifts his hips and shoves them back down, pushing Keith’s cock deep inside him. 

He moves like that, fucking Keith’s cock, and when Keith’s hitching breath presses against Shiro’s mouth, he squeezes around Keith. 

Keith comes with a low whine, moaning Shiro’s name as he grips him tight and fucks up into him, emptying inside him. Shiro could get addicted to the feeling of it, that fullness, that weight of Keith’s body rising to meet him. They’re a tide, ebbing and flowing with each other, reaching that apex and coming apart. 

Keith’s panting against his mouth like he’s drowning, like he never wants to let go. Shiro loves the feeling of that cock inside him, that slide of it, the heat of his come. He wants to keep Keith inside him until he can prompt him to get hard all over again. 

He circles his hips down, pinning Keith to the spot so he doesn’t get any ideas about pulling out. 

“Keith,” he whispers, nosing at Keith’s jaw. 

Keith lets out a low groan and turns his face, nuzzling against Shiro in turn. He pets his hands up Shiro’s back. 

“Okay?” Keith asks, sounding groggy. 

Shiro smiles, helpless and in love, and presses a kiss to the spot just before Keith’s ear. “So good, Keith.” 

Keith almost giggles, but it eases out of him halfway between laugh and purr. He sighs, body relaxing beneath him, slumped and sexed-out. 

“I was okay?” Keith asks, which is the most absurd question Shiro could ever anticipate. 

“You were perfect, baby.” 

Shiro kisses him. Keith gives a low grunt but kisses him back. 

When they part again, Shiro pets his cheek, feels that slide of skin against skin, sweat against sweat. He smiles at Keith and Keith smiles back, looking just as in love as Shiro feels. 

“Did this help?” Keith asks, quietly. 

Shiro nods, his eyes soft. “Yeah. Yeah, I feel…” He can’t find the words for it. He shakes his head, kissing Keith’s cheek. “I love you.” 

Keith breathes in, smiling tentatively. “I never thought,” Keith whispers, voice broken and wispy, “I never thought I’d—” 

“Shh,” Shiro assures him. He kisses Keith’s forehead. 

Keith seeks his mouth, whispering, “Never thought you’d feel the same way about me.” 

Shiro’s heart aches, his body aches, everything inside him aches. He left so much unsaid for too long. In hindsight, he can’t even think of the reason why he would have held these feelings back for so long. 

He cups Keith’s cheek and keeps him there. He doesn’t know how long they kiss, but it’s long enough that they both melt into it. Keith’s soft inside him but they’re still connected. They might as well be one person for all Shiro cares, every point of connection between them centering him, blooming them outward. He’s a river, he’s an ocean, he’s a thousand stars in one— it doesn’t matter, because he’s part of Keith. Keith is the universe and he’s part of him. 

“I’m an idiot,” Shiro whispers once they part, fingertips stroking Keith’s face. “I should have told you a long time ago how I feel. I should have—” 

Now it’s Keith’s turn to whisper, “Shh…” He reaches for Shiro, cupping his face and kissing him sweetly. “I know now,” he murmurs when he draws back. “I won’t let anyone say anything mean about you— including yourself.” 

All he can do is kiss Keith again. “Okay, baby.” 

Keith hums, eyes soft. Into the kiss, he whispers, “I like that.” 

“Baby,” Shiro says again, obediently. Keith pulls Shiro in close, hugging him. 

“You’re here,” Keith whispers.

“I’m here,” Shiro echoes. It feels so good, to be securely in Keith’s arms. 

All he can do is sink into him, pouring every ounce of love he feels into the curving smile of Keith’s mouth. His laugh is a watery, breathless thing, but it’s Keith’s. Only Keith’s.

**Author's Note:**

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